Untouchable
by Rosamundius Malloy
Summary: AU. She was young when she had her heart broken. Not by a lover, but by her kin. She hid herself behind an untouchable mask, one that would guarantee her protection. Little did she know that the wall she had built so carefully would soon crumble down.
1. Prologue

Summary: AU. She was just a girl—a young girl, at that—when she had her heart broken. No, it was not by any lover she had (she was far too young for that), but by her own kin. She hid herself behind a mask—a wall—an untouchable one—one that would guarantee her protection. Little did she know that the wall she had built so carefully would soon crumble down.

Disclaimer: Since my name is not J.K. Rowling, or anything even close to that, it should be quite obvious that I own nothing…not even the plot…not really…

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><p><em>Prologue…<em>

It was insanity that drove her to it—pure, utter insanity. She could not have possibly been sane to do what she did. No sane person would have done what she had done—she was sure of it. At least she acknowledged her insanity and her extreme actions. That, at least, was what kept her alive. Anybody in their right mind would be questioning her sanity, but then again, very few people she knew were actually mentally stable.

Desperation was another thing—the need to have a true friend, the need to be loved, the need to love another. It was just one more thing that drove her to this "insanity." It was just another reason for her to do what she did.

Her experiences were what did the trick. She grew up quite quickly—not early, per se—merely quite speedily. Many before her have grown up earlier than she, but few have grown up so fast. It only took a matter of months—even days—for her to leave the safety of childhood innocence—to enter the world of corruption and greed created by adults. In the blink of an eye, she was no longer a child. She no longer possessed the cheeriness children felt; instead, she experienced the mistrust and resentment felt by older folks—those that are assumed to be wiser, more mature.

No, she had been hurt—hurt in a way no child should ever experience. She had been destroyed—exploited even. She had her heart broken.

She was loved by many, admired by so much more, but she was hurt by those closest to her. She had her heart broken, torn into shreds—her youthful innocence gone, taken away from as easily as it was to say three simple words.

It was her sister that ruined her—her older sister. However, with that one simple action, it was not only her sister the girl lost, but her best friend as well. The two were once very, very close—inseparable, even. They used to do everything together; they would tell each other everything—nothing could be a secret with those two. They were, as many deemed them, two peas in a pod. Anybody that looked at the two girls walking, hand in hand, would have immediately assumed that they would be friends for life—that nothing could go between them. Alas, they never knew how wrong they were.

Nobody knew what happened—what made them fall apart. It may have been her sister's consistent jealousy through the years (that nobody had truly noticed), but nobody was ever sure. All they knew was on that fateful summer day the girls were no longer friends. There had been no sign—not even a slight indication—that their friend ship would end, and end so abruptly. The two girls had seemed perfect together, to say the least, and everybody was confused. The only thing that they could be sure about was that one had uttered three simple words that destroyed the other—a simple: "I hate you."

Of course, there was nothing simple about saying "I hate you," but the words flew out so quickly and the time was so brief, that it seemed almost effortless to say them. There was so much passion behind those three words that the girl had staggered back—her eyes wide, shining with tears. Her mouth had parted in a perfect "O," but did nothing more. There was no retaliation, no hiccup, no hand to cover the predictable surge of sobs and wails. No, none of that happened. She simply smiled sadly, setting her mouth in a firm, grim line—a look that should never be seen on a child's face—and walked away. She did not run; she merely strode calmly, her eyes blazing, her chin up high. She walked with confidence that she did not feel. In reality, she was breaking inside. She had been destroyed—emotionally ruined. She would never be the same again. She wanted to cry so badly—she wanted that more than anything in the world. It had been her own sister—her _best friend…_but…but…She only shook her head and kept on walking.

Surprisingly, the girl had shed few tears over this ordeal—she was not one to cry freely. She had the misguided thought that only the weak cry. (It would be later when she would realize how wrong she really was.) Only when she was sure that no one could hear her did she sob to her heart's content; this she did rarely. Instead, she made the mistake that many make—a choice that, at first, seems to _perfect, _so _foolproof_, that it is terribly difficult to turn down. She chose this for her own protection, though this "solution" could only lead to further destruction, and ultimately—as one could say—her demise. She decided to put up a wall between her and those around her; she decided to put on an impenetrable mask.

It was not just any wall she put up—not just any mask she chose to wear. It was a magical one. And the magic made it practically unbreakable.

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><p>Author's Note: I got this plot idea from reading "True Love is Blind" by glittery-snowflake. It's going to be different, by the way, as is what happens when you do something of your own. You should read it sometime—"True love is Blind," that is—it's really good…just incomplete…<p>

Once again, if you liked this story, which would be quite the shocker to me seeing that I've only written a prologue that has no indication of what the plot could really be, I would have to disappoint you and say that updates probably will not be very consistent…I'm sorry…it's just…I'm not good with updates. I'm actually on time with most of my writing, it's just I have to type up the darn things, and that takes up more time, and I need to do other things that are equally as time-wasting.

I would really appreciate if you, dear reader, to review. It's always nice to know what others think—just don't insult me as a person. I've gotten enough of _that_ in my lifetime. I don't need it from people I don't even know.

Thank you for reading.

(I'm sorry if my Author's Note was a bit rude, by the way. It's just that I can kind of relate to this prologue that I've written, so it hasn't put me in the best of moods)

And sorry for any typos, by the way.

My most sincere apologies for my slight rudeness,

Delia

P.S—I would still appreciate it very much if you review. And I take Anonymous reviews, so…(glances subtly at the review button below) please…? *smiled meekly*


	2. Insanity

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own very little, if not nothing…

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><p><em>Insanity…<em>

Lily Evans gazed at the girl that looked steadily back at her. She sighed. The girl had dark red hair, almost auburn, that flowed in gentle wave to fall below her shoulders. Her hair was thick and glossy; in short, it was hair that many other girls would envy deeply, if only they had the opportunity to see it. This girl also had a flawless complexion—creamy skin, few freckles (with the exception of those seven golden specks scattered across her nose), and rosy cheeks. Her mouth was small, and her lips were naturally blood red in color—the lower lip being slightly plumper than the upper one. However, the thing that was most captivating about the girl that insisted on staring back at Lily Evans was her eyes. They were startlingly green, almost-shaped orbs framed by long, elegant lashes. Her eyes were bright and inviting, but if one looked closely, they could possibly—just maybe—see hurt deep down inside. Alas, nobody ever cared to look close enough.

Anybody that saw this green-eyed, red-headed girl would have claimed that she was very pretty—almost too pretty. Some would have said that she was too pretty for her own good. Others would use less complimentary, far less sophisticated terms to describe her aesthetic appeal. And then, there were the select few that would have deemed her appearance exotic—beautiful, even. They would have complimented her about her "luscious" hair; praised her for her "eyes-like-none-they-have-ever-seen-before;" asked her about how she had such "nice skin;" smiled adoringly at her "cute mouth;" and proclaimed their desire for her "envious" figure. Anybody that saw this same reflection Lily Evans saw would have admired her appearance.

However, most people that saw Lily Evans nowadays ignored her. Nobody at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry even spared her a second glance. Not a soul in that school thought her to be beautiful—nobody thought that she was even remotely pretty. Anybody that saw Lily roaming the corridors of Hogwarts found her plain—some would go as far to say that she was ugly.

_It's funny how different people's opinions could be_, Lily thought absent-mindedly, smiling as though she was the keeper of a particularly "clever" secret. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at her head. No, she was not going to kill herself. Sure, it would put her out of her partially self-inflicted misery, but it was not the solution she had chosen.

Lily muttered a few charms under her breath, first directing her wand at her hair, then her face, and finally, her lips. If anybody was standing by to watch, they would wonder what in the world Lily Evans was doing to herself. Alas, nobody was standing by, so there was no one there to question the poor girl's obviously deteriorating sanity.

Her once vibrant, red hair was altered to a dark brown. Its glossy sheen was now gone, and was replaced by a dull hue. Her hair, no longer smooth, was frizzy and coarse—quite an unappealing look for a young lady such as herself. Her flawless skin lost its fair complexion, but somehow, Lily could never remove the pink tinges on her cheeks. However, the blood red lips she possessed were lightened to a soft, pink color, one that was exceptionally average if not below average. Her eyes, she did not dare change. Instead, she settled for wearing a pair of thick-framed glasses. Even with her insane desire to appear as unattractive as possible, she could not bear to change her eye color. It was her one vain spot—her "one beauty," as she deemed it. She had inherited her eye color from her father, whom she loved very much, and decided to keep them as they were. As she saw it, it was less complicated, anyway.

Lily made her way towards her trunk to pull out the day's attire—her school uniform. The clothes she wore generally appeared to be a bit baggy on her. Mainly, it was because loose-fitting clothing was comfortable, but it was also because it hid her slim figure. It was only a few years ago that she began looking less like a gangly, awkward girl, but a young lady—or "woman," if you must. This, she had discovered from her sister Petunia, during one of their numerous quarrels. Apparently, the latter was, once again, jealous of the attention Lily got from boys.

Lily Evans had, in short, the figure of a ballerina. Or, at least, one of which most amateur dancers could only dream of. It was a pity that Lily did not do ballet, for she would have been quite good at it. Instead, her talents lied elsewhere, but that is to be discussed in another time and place.

Her legs were long—seemingly endless; her body was slender and elegant. She was not stick-thin like Petunia was; instead, Lily's slimness was more natural-looking, and she was not just skin and bones.

Lily hastily pulled on her uniform, tugged on her tie, and slid her arms through the sleeves of her robe. With a final swipe at her glasses, she dashed out of her dormitory and down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

….

_"Tuney?" a voice called through the darkness. It cracked slightly, the way voices generally did when one was holding back tears. _

_ "Tuney?" the same voice called again, this time a bit softer, gentler. _

_ There came a groan from the mattress at the far corner of the room, and then there came the sound of shuffling feet. In the soft beam of light that seeped through the window, a nine-year-old Lily Evans could make out the silhouette of her older sister. The latter of which was coming towards her, rubbing her eyes blearily in the dark._

_ "What's wrong, Lily?" Petunia asked, her voice still a bit thick with sleep._

_ Lily looked up at her sister, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Am I—am I a—a freak?" she asked, choking with poorly contained sobs. _

_ Petunia, nodding understandingly, pulled her sister into a tight hug. She rubbed the girl back gently. "No, of course not, Lily. You're not a freak. You'll never be a freak," she whispered soothingly. "They're just jealous that you're prettier than they are."_

_ Lily was crying now. She wiped away the tears that had flowed from her eyes with the back of her hand hiccupping slightly. _

_ " Why do people care about 'looks' so much?" Lily sobbed mournfully. "What does that have to do with anything?"_

_ "They're just shallow like that," reassured Petunia._

_ "But why? You could be very beautiful but very cruel. You could be absolutely hideous but extremely kind. Why?" Lily asked, her voice filled with childhood innocence._

_ "They don't know that," explained Petunia. "They don't know that there are more important things than how a person looks."_

_ "They should learn," Lily sniffed, ever the romantic. "Thanks Tuney," she whispered again, giving her sister a small hug. "I know you'll never judge anybody by how they look."_

_ "Of course not, silly," Petunia whispered back. "I'd never do that."_

_ With that, Petunia gave her younger sister one last comforting squeeze. "You should go back now, she suggested. Mum doesn't like you walking around in the middle of the night."_

_ Lily nodded her consent and silently climbed off the bed. She slipped out of the room and into the dark hallway._

_ Petunia just sat there, watching her Lily's retreating figure, wondering if she had possibly—just maybe— lied to her own sister for the first time. If it was, then it would not be her last. _

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><p>Author's Note: Well…yeah…I don't have much to say. This is probably the fasted update I've ever had. This chapter's probably a bit confusing to, but oh well. I don't feel like changing it too much. I don't have time. As always, I apologize for any typos I may have (if they bother you, of course).<p>

And please, I'd really appreciate it if you reviewed. Thanks for reading!

-Delia


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